Carry On
by NotAboutTheZombies
Summary: Another Bethyl fluff story that keeps them together after being run out of the mortuary in S4, Ep13 "Alone." Cross-posted on walkdeadfanfiction with the same title and username.
1. The Woods

**Chapter One: The Woods**

Beth and Daryl were in survival mode again. Their respite at a remote funeral home had been brief yet comfortable, and Beth was clearly in shock from the unexpected turn of events that had caused them to flee. Daryl had further concerns. The first rattle of their walker alarm, the long line of twine and cans that caught a walker's foot and made a loud racket, had only revealed a small dog at the door. It couldn't have been an hour before an entire herd of walkers had set the alarm off a second time, catching them completely off guard. Escaping the house, they'd been nearly run down by a car in the driveway. Daryl had been dragging Beth, forcing her legs to move faster than a wounded leg should go, and they'd made it into the woods before the driver of the car could make another move.

The home had been clean, almost immaculate, and stocked with food. They should have known someone was living there, someone who would protect his territory. They should have raided it and moved on. Daryl's mind had hollered plenty of "should haves" at him these past couple of days. He wondered what Beth was thinking. She'd been pale and silent since that night, only breaking down once immediately after they'd run.

Beth had been whimpering in pain as they'd made their way through the trees, but the sound hadn't registered with Daryl until a walker lunged at them in the dark. He'd dropped her and pushed the thing away, smashing its rotten face with the butt of his crossbow as it struggled on the ground. Beth was a lump on the ground, crying into the dirty leaves.

Daryl thought back on that night with some shame. His instinct as she lay balled up on the ground was to silence her, not out of concern for her but out of concern for their safety. Noise drew walkers and he needed her to be quiet. He'd crouched down and tried to shush her, but it didn't seem like she was paying him any mind. That's when he'd done the only other thing he could think of. Daryl had gotten right in her face and promised he'd kill her himself if she didn't shut the fuck up. It didn't occur to him that he could have been kind until after she'd balled herself up even further and gone quiet.

He'd spent that night sitting next to her, his mind racing and ready for the next walker attack. Beth had uncurled and opened her eyes at first light that morning, but she hadn't spoken a word to him. He'd bid her to get up and start walking, helping her when she struggled to her feet. They had moved slowly as Beth limped along. Sometimes he'd carry her on his back, the rest of time he'd helped her along like a crutch. Miraculously, they hadn't come across any more walkers.

Morning had come after another sleepless night and Daryl was exhausted. He had their only weapon, their only means of protection, but he couldn't keep them safe if he was dead on his feet.

"Beth," he began in a raspy, unused voice. "Think you kin keep watch while I get some sleep?"

Beth looked up from where she'd been staring, blue eyes wide and blinking. She nodded and seemed to come back from wherever she'd been, so Daryl settled himself on the ground a few feet away from where she sat and tucked an arm under his head.

Beth stared out at the forest around them. Her haze seemed to dissipate some as she looked around. Leaves, branches, bushes, a fallen log, dappled sunlight… no rotting corpses intent on eating her flesh. For now, anyway. Beth sighed. She knew she had to pull herself together. She knew it, but scraping her last bit of hope together was proving to be very difficult. She had lost so much. Her family and friends were dead or gone. Daryl was all she had left but she didn't know what that meant.

She couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at her that night at the kitchen table. Before that night, his eyes had always been searching her face, unsure of her and wary of what she wanted from him. That night, it was like he'd made up his mind that he liked what he saw. That look had made her feel special, feel safe, feel like going on. She hadn't seen that look again. Now, Daryl just looked angry.

An image of her daddy on his knees flashed before her eyes, out of nowhere. A wave of grief threatened to take her but she kept her eyes on Daryl's sleeping form. Tears fell down her cheeks but she kept her ears sharp to the sounds of the forest and reminded herself what she was listening for.

A walker could be detected from a considerable distance under the right circumstances. A squirrel might snap a twig but the sound was louder under a foot. Once a walker caught your scent, it would groan. If you could hear that, you had just enough time to gather your weapon and scan your perimeter. Beth had kept the two of them safe dozens of times while they'd been roaming and she could do it again, whether or not her daddy was alive.

She found herself wondering what their next move should be. They desperately needed to find supplies. A thought crossed her mind that made her shudder. The car, someone had been driving it. Someone had led walkers to the door to scare them away and then tried to kill them. It seemed insane but that was the only sense Beth could make of the events that night.

Another thought crossed her mind. The house had a driveway, which had to lead to a road at some point. If they backtracked a ways and scouted, maybe they could find it. She decided to bring the idea up to Daryl when he woke up.

It wasn't long before she had to wake him herself. Beth heard the rustling of bushes and a low groan before she could even see the thing. She scurried to Daryl and shook him.

"Walker!" she hissed in his ear. He was up and aiming before she could even stand.

A young woman was drawing near, armless and snarling. It was a pathetic sight. Daryl's arrow hit her between the eyes and she fell backwards, motionless. He retrieved it and wiped it down on her clothing unapologetically. Beth watched from where she sat. He looked back at her.

"Think you kin walk?"

She nodded.

"We should track 'er, see where she came from."

As he pulled her to her feet, Beth met his eyes. There was a lot behind those eyes- pain, sorrow, anger. But there was something else as well. Concern? She didn't know what it was, but it made her feel strong. As she limped along behind him, Beth resolved to stay alive.


	2. The Roadhouse

**Chapter Two: The Roadhouse**

Less than a mile away, the forest gave way to a gravel road. They lost the walker's tracks there but it didn't matter. A road was a road.

"Stay here," he whispered. "I'mma go see what I kin see."

He left her in the brush at the edge of the woods and crouched in the tall grass by the road. On his left, the road curved to the right and disappeared behind more trees. To his right, it stretched out into the distance. He could see a few walkers stumbling in his direction but they were too far to be a threat.

Daryl returned to find Beth a few yards away from where he'd left her, collecting red raspberries from an overgrown bush. After they ate, he reported what he'd seen in a hushed voice and helped Beth along. They stayed in the trees, following the curve of the road.

After a few hours of slow travel, Daryl deciding to go one way or another, they came to the edge of the woods at a railroad crossing and a fork in the road. In the distance, they could see a few buildings clustered around the tracks. At least a dozen walkers shuffled around at an intersection there, some bent over and gnawing at what was left of human remains. They followed the tracks, still lurking in the trees in the hopes it would provide cover. Luck was on their side, as they made their way to the back of a large brick building on the near side of the intersection unnoticed. It seemed to be a rundown old house, it's large screened porch nestled into the trees and only in view to the small empty street that crossed the tracks.

They made their way quietly to the porch steps, Daryl's crossbow in a ready position. The porch was empty but for some tables and chairs, so he climbed the steps. They creaked under his weight, but nothing stirred. The back door lay straight ahead and he tried it to find it was unlocked. Bells jingled from the inside when he turned the knob, making him jump back straight into Beth.

He had to chuckle at himself. "Scared the shit outta me," he whispered. Beth stayed silent, eyes wide and frightened. Daryl opened the door wider to reveal one very large, very dark room. He stood at the threshold, waiting, listening, but there was nothing. Beth had sucked in her breath and was holding it. He shook his head and whispered, "Looks empty."

Beth exhaled slowly and peered inside over his shoulder. "Is it a store?" she whispered. She was right, it was. Though it was dark, the light coming from the open door illuminated shelves that were still half-stocked.

They stepped inside, Beth pulling the door shut behind them slowly. In the darkness, Daryl could see natural light shining down a staircase at the front end of the house. "Stay here," he whispered. "I'm gonna check upstairs." He glided silently to the bottom step to peer up.

Mid-morning sunlight poured in through a window at the top of the stairs. A restroom sign hung above the window, pointing to the right. Daryl climbed the stairs, crossbow ready. Another large room opened up at the top of the stairs, set up like a bar. Across the room, an open door revealed an empty bathroom. As he made his way to the bathroom door, an unpleasant, familiar smell hit his nose. Decay.

He poked his head in the bathroom and saw a closed door beyond the shower stall. He listened at it, heard nothing. He knocked, hoping to stir whatever was inside. Not a sound. He tried the handle and it turned just as easily as the back door had.

The room behind the door was just big enough for a bed and a dresser. The odor of decay swept outwards, making him cringe and stifle a gag. A corpse lay sprawled in its own ooze on the bed, bloated and rotting. By the clothes and hair, it looked to be a man. The gun in his hand suggested that he'd taken his own life with a bullet to the temple. Daryl gingerly pulled the handgun from the man's grip and wiped it off on the blanket at the bottom of the bed.

Ignoring the corpse, he went through the dresser drawers and found more bullets, clean clothes, and socks. He carried an armful back downstairs.

"Just a body up there, but the whole place stank. Better off down here."

"Somebody nailed blankets over the windows," Beth pointed out. They'd be able to move about safely down here without the walkers spotting them, but they'd have to stay quiet.

She seated herself under a window where a bit of light peeked through with a granola bar and a two-liter of warm soda. Daryl dumped his armful of supplies in front of her and sat down, rifling through everything. He held up a pair of socks and Beth grinned. They both knew what the ladies at the prison had used socks for.

"Almost as good as a tampon."

"You git the gun, too," Daryl told her, sliding it to her.

Beth looked at it and nodded. "I just want to eat and sleep," she sighed.

That sounded like a good enough idea for now, so Daryl found himself some food and settled back down next to her. Once his stomach was full, he could hardly keep his eyes open. "You lock that door?" he asked Beth, indicating the back door with a nod.

"Yup," she yawned. They lay down near each other, Daryl with his arms behind his head and Beth laying on her side to face him.

"Pheww, you stink, Dixon," she murmured.

"You don't smell so great yourself," he shot back, but she was already asleep.


	3. Dreams

**Chapter Three: Dreams**

She was back at her house, the farmhouse where she'd lived with her family. The visitors were there- Rick, Lori, Carl, and everbody who'd come with them, but it was okay. They were just camped out in the yard. They were just coming in for dinner. The food was ready but she couldn't find Daddy. Beth floated through the house, looking for him. When she opened the door to his room, Daryl was in there. He was lying in bed, propped up on one arm, looking at her. She'd never seen a look like that in her life but it made her want to lay down with him. She could feel the heat that his body gave off, she could smell his sweat, she could hear him breathing like it was in her ear. These things were tantalizing, but she had to find Daddy first. He wouldn't want to miss dinner.

When she opened Maggie's bedroom door, Beth suddenly found herself out in the field watching the barn burn. There were walkers everywhere, snarling, groaning, growling. She turned to run but there was a wire fence in her way. Suddenly it was daylight and she was watching a tall man in an eyepatch swing a sword at her Daddy's head. He was on his knees and she was screaming, kept screaming as his head rolled onto the ground...

She woke up crying, her face pressed into a dirty shirt with a solid, warm body underneath it. An arm wrapped around her, a hand patted her back tentatively, and a rough voice whispered helplessly, "Hey, s'ok, s'ok."

Daryl had woken with a startle as soon as Beth had rolled into him. She'd begun shaking seconds later and whimpering into his shirt. In this house in the dark, they were safe enough. Comforting her seemed inevitable and really, she deserved the kindness. He found that he rather liked it, much like holding Rick's baby or letting Carol give him one of her hugs.

Beth pulled away and wiped her eyes."I'm sorry," she muttered, "I was dreamin'..." Her voice cracked and she went silent.

"S'alright," Daryl answered, adding, "You been through a lot."

They laid there in the darkness silently, not touching, not sleeping. Beth's dream ran around her head. She'd wanted to be with Daryl "that way," she knew she had. She could still feel the yearning, her stomach fluttering at the thought of him holding her again. It was the only thing she could think about and he was right there. What would happen if she moved back into his arms? Before she could think it through, she'd already curled her body back into his.

He hesitated a moment, but finally draped one arm across her. She took that as a good sign and lifted her face to find his. Her forehead and nose grazed the scruff of his chin, but her lips finally found his and lingered there waiting for a reaction.

Daryl felt frozen. This was not what he'd expected of the girl, but he realized that he shouldn't have been surprised. Beth had proven herself to be bold when she wanted something and this was no different. He was on autopilot, his mouth already responding to being kissed. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

Her first kiss was replaced by a second and a third, each growing a little more tender, a little more passionate. It felt right, what they were doing. Beth's hand was at the back of his neck, playing with his hair. Daryl slid his hand to her waist and found the hem of her shirt, lightly touching the skin underneath. Beth gave a little gasp at his touch. It was enough to drive him wild. On instinct, Daryl took the lead, propping himself up on one arm to lean over her. He pressed his mouth to hers hard, tasting her mouth, then trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

Beth sucked in her breath and moaned gently. Her hands were grabbing and pulling at Daryl's shirt as he kissed her. She opened her mouth and sucked at his lips frantically, feeling like she would never be able to get as close to him as she wanted to at this moment. His lips were on her neck again, his hand sliding up her side to cup a breast in his palm. She wanted more. She wanted to feel his skin. Beth sat herself up, gently pushing him aside and straddling his lap.

In one swift movement, Daryl pulled her layered shirts over her head and placed kisses across her chest, his hands lingering at the clasp of Beth's bra. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and helped him out of his shirt. They kissed again, Beth's hands roaming across his back, feeling the smooth skin and puckered, twisted scars.

"Stop," Daryl protested gruffly, pulling her hands away.

"It's ok," Beth began, but it was the wrong thing to say.

"Don't tell me it's ok," Daryl growled at her. "Don't touch me." He shoved her off his lap and grabbed for his shirt.

"Daryl..." Beth began helplessly, tears of frustration coming to her eyes.

"What the hell're you thinkin' anyway," Daryl hissed. "There's walkers outside th' door and you wanna jump in the sack." He yanked his shirt on angrily.

Beth clutched her clothes to her chest, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why was he angry? She was confused and frustrated and that made her angry, too.

"You were about to jump in it, too, you _asshole_," she hissed right back. "Don't you dare try and shame me." The dam broke and words came pouring out. "It's ok to want to feel something, Daryl. It's ok to care about someone besides yourself. We could have something here. We could be together, take care of each other."

Daryl leaned forward, his face inches from hers. "I _do_ care," he whispered angrily. "Everything I've done is because I care. But if you think we kin play house here, you best keep dreamin'."


	4. Move

**Chapter Four: Move**

Beth awoke to Daryl's warm breath in her ear. "Beth," he whispered urgently. She mmmm'd at him, still dreaming.

"BETH," he hissed under his breath insistently. "WAKE THE FUCK UP."

She opened her eyes, the 'where, when, and what' of reality smacking her in the face. Daryl was crouched next to her holding a handful of plastic bags and a roll of duct tape.

"Walkers found us," he whispered. "We gotta move 'fore we're surrounded."

Beth sat up quickly, fear flooding her stomach like water. She did her best to ignore it and stay calm.

Daryl gestured to a sack on the floor next to him. It was made of the same materials he had in his hands- layers of plastic bags reinforced at the top and bottom with the tape.

"Make another bag while I pack this one up," he instructed.

Beth nodded and got to work. She could hear the faint scratching and groaning of walkers at the front of the building. It sounded like there were maybe a half dozen, but Daryl was right to be cautious. A herd could come through and surround them in minutes.

How had they been found? Had one walker happened close by last night and heard their angry whispers? Beth didn't want to think about it.

Once her bag was ready, Daryl took it and began to pack it while she pulled on the top layer of her clothes. When he came back to help her to her feet, he wouldn't meet her eyes. That angered her, but there wasn't time for another argument.

Packed and armed, they made their way to the back door. Beth grimaced at the pain in her leg, but she was determined to keep up. Daryl readied his crossbow and signaled Beth to open the door. She threw it open quickly and lurched back out of the way.

The porch was still empty, and the woods beyond. Daryl helped Beth down the steps and kept an arm around her as they made their way through the trees behind a few ramshackle homes. She hopped along as fast as she could go, focusing on her feet while Daryl kept an eye out for potential threat.

The way was clear until they'd crossed the street and made it past the homes on that side. Beth was out of breath and her pace had slowed. Through the trees to their left, Daryl could see the train tracks that ran through the town. The tracks ran into a deep ravine a few hundred feet away. He had a mind to travel on those tracks. It would be slow going, but Beth needed slow. He knew instinctively that the rails would also slow down any walkers they might encounter.

They'd have to reach the tracks here or slide down the steep walls of the ravine, and he knew Beth was not up to that task. If they left the woods now, they were risking being seen by the walkers back in the town. Daryl was pretty sure he'd be able to outrun a bunch of stumbling walkers, even if he had to carry Beth on his back.

As they emerged from the woods, a pair of walkers on the far side of the tracks spotted them. One appeared to be a child, the other an adult male. The child snarled first and threw itself forward in their direction, tripping over the rail at its feet and falling on its face. The adult moved more slowly but made more noise. Daryl glanced quickly behind him at the walkers in front of the roadhouse. They were making enough racket that they didn't seem to hear these two. He helped Beth over the rail and quickly moved his bag to hang against his stomach before offering his back to her. She tossed the knife she'd been holding into her bag and allowed him to hoist her up, arms around his shoulders and hands clasped at his chest to help support her weight.

Daryl set a steady pace as he walked between the rails, his steps matching Beth's ragged breathing in his ears. He could feel her cheek against the back of his neck, her breath heating and cooling the skin under his ear, and knew he regretted every angry word he'd said to her the night before. There was plenty of time to stew about it as he put the town far behind them.

Truth was, Daryl felt awful about how he'd behaved. He wasn't sure what he thought about the direction Beth was pushing them, but that was no reason to treat her bad. She hadn't even said anything about his scars to set him off. Over the years, Daryl had learned to hide his body from questioning eyes, even the well-meaning ones. His dad's beatings were long over but the rage he felt was never far beneath the surface and that rage scared him when it all came rushing back. It had always seemed better to avoid situations that put him in a vulnerable spot.

His mind wandered to Beth's skinny ribs, her hollow stomach, how her breast felt under his hand. He found himself wondering if that was a vulnerable feeling for a woman and decided it probably was. Something Glenn had said to him once echoed in his ear. _"I care more about her than I care about me."_ She had put herself out there by kissing him and he'd torn her apart.

"How ya doin' back there?" Daryl asked.

"My leg is throbbing," Beth admitted pathetically.

"First place we find to rest a while, we'll take it."

Beth was silent for quite a while as he plodded along the tracks. He barely heard her when she said mournfully, "There's no place safe."

Daryl had been thinking something similar. "No place safe for long, but plenty of places to use until we have to move on." Beth didn't respond.

"Lots o' folks used to live like that," he added. "Tribes used ta roam all over this land and they were fine. We'll be fine."

"I don't know if I can live like that," Beth replied tentatively.

"You'll learn."

They were halfway around a bend when Daryl spotted the station. It was wooden and weather worn and might be full of walkers, but it was something. "Well, lookit that."

Beth raised her head. "Looks like a deathtrap."

Daryl grunted and crouched down slowly to let her slide off of his back. He adjusted his pack and put her arm around his neck. "Kin you make it to that platform?" he asked.

Beth nodded. They moved slowly, quietly, wary of anything that might be lurking in or around the building. There were no telltale sounds coming from the station but that didn't mean much. Anyone or anything could be inside. He left Beth at the foot of a cement staircase that led up from the rails to the station and scouted the building.

The back door was locked but the station's wide front doors were open. Inside, the rooms were almost pristine except for trash left behind from others who had been seeking shelter. It was almost a shock to see something so untouched, after all that had happened.

Daryl noticed that the inside of the front doors had been boarded, chained, padlocked, though the lock had been broken and the chain unwound. A chain and a board could buy them enough time to escape out the back door if necessary. It wasn't secure and they couldn't stay for long, but it would do for a rest.

He helped Beth up the stairs and through the back door that he'd propped open on his way out. She limped to a wooden bench and set her pack on the ground, then plopped down. Daryl let the door lock behind them and tested his work on the front door before he joined her.

He watched her open a bottle of Advil and wash the pills down with water. He watched her open a protein bar and eat half of it, then wrap it and put it away. She was ignoring him purposefully, he could tell, but he had no idea what to say to fix it.

"Beth..." he began, letting her name linger. She ignored him.

He cleared his throat. She ignored him.

He let out a long sigh and rested his head in his hands, running his fingers through his dirty brown hair.

"I think the words yer lookin' for are 'I'm sorry,'" Beth suggested in her most pleasant, conversational tone. She hoped it sounded as sarcastic as she'd meant it to be.

Daryl looked up at her to meet her eyes. "I am," he mumbled, searching for more words and coming up short.

A smile played on her lips. "I will never yell at Beth again," she teased.

Amused, Daryl nodded.

"I won't be mean. I'll be nice, and… and I'll give Beth everything I have with chocolate in it."

That made him smirk. "Everythin'," he agreed.


	5. Southern Comfort

**Chapter Five: Southern Comfort**

When he returned from scouting the area around the station, Daryl was relieved to report that he and Beth were safe there for now. There hadn't been a trace of human or walker in the perimeter he'd checked out, which was good in the short term. Long term, it meant that walkers were probably collecting somewhere. There was a chance they might run into that herd, but he'd likely see them coming and would get them out by way of the tracks before it was too late.

"How's that leg?" he asked Beth as he flopped down on the bench across from her.

"Bruises are yellowin'," Beth replied. "Swellin's down."

"Rest up."

Beth sighed in frustration. "I wish I had somethin' to do," she said wistfully. "I miss readin' books."

Daryl mmm'd sympathetically, staring at the ceiling. "Can't say I e'r read much… before."

"Maggie and I, we used to make up stories when we were kids." The memory was a fond one, immediately replaced by an intense sadness for the loss of her sister. Maggie wasn't dead, Beth just knew it somehow, but she wasn't sure she'd ever see her sister again. "One of us would decide on the character and then we'd take turns adding something to it. They used to get pretty silly."

After an expectant silence that Daryl clearly ignored, Beth decided to plod on. "I'll start. Once there was a boy named… Jerold."

"I aint' good at stuff like this," Daryl protested.

"Try," Beth insisted. "Once there was a boy named Jerold."

He sighed and thought for a few seconds. "I dunno wut to say next."

Beth rolled her eyes. "It's not hard! What does Jerold do?"

"Jerold kills walkers."

She gave him a flat look. "Come on."

Daryl just shrugged.

"Think of something more interesting. Like… Let's say Jerold is a superhero. He can read minds."

"Okay."

"So, what does Jerold the superhero do?" she coaxed.

"He reads minds," he replied with a stubborn, self-satisfied expression.

She glared at him, half annoyed and half amused. "How does Jerold feel, then?"

Daryl paused, trying to play along enough to avoid pissing her off. "He… he feels… alone."

"Why?" Beth asked earnestly.

"Cuz he's got all these people's thoughts in his head but no one kin hear wut he's thinkin'."

"So Jerold the lonely superhero decides to go looking for another superhero." Beth added.

"But there ain't none." Daryl put in quickly.

"Sure there is," Beth argued. "He finds one. A woman. Her name is…" She paused, suggesting he choose a name.

Daryl was chewing on his thumbnail. "Beth?" he offered.

Beth smirked. "I wish I could read your thoughts. Would make life so much easier."

Daryl stared at the floor, thinking. Beth waited for him, but he seemed lost in his thoughts.

"That was the worst story ever," she teased. "From now on, I'm just going to make them up on my own."

That made him chuckle. Beth spent the evening making up ridiculous stories, trying to keep Daryl smiling. He seemed to enjoy it, though he never tried to participate. When the sun went down, she quieted. It was best to sleep with the dark and wake with the sunrise these days. They rested on their benches across from each other. The silence was awkward, but neither one of them tried to break it.

In the morning, Daryl increased his perimeter as he scouted. He encountered a few walkers and put them down easily, wiping his arrows on their rags as he retrieved them. The act seemed like a daily chore. Get up, eat breakfast, kill some walkers. The thought made him chuckle. Towards the end of his round, Daryl came across a large sign on the side of the dirt road. It was an advertisement for a new housing development further down the way. That seemed promising, though he didn't want to force Beth to walk on her ankle just yet. The station was good enough for now, but he'd mention it to her.

On his way back, he came across a rabbit and caught it. He skinned and prepped it while Beth started a small campfire on the platform. While they ate, Daryl told her about the sign he'd seen. They decided that he'd check it out in the afternoon. "Could be they're not even built yet," he added.

The development turned out to be one model home twice as big as Daryl's childhood home and a few frames. A cement truck sat vacant nearby. Two diggers were parked farther off. None of them had their keys on them, but Daryl scored an open pack of cigarettes and roll of hard candies.

The model home had already been broken into, its door flung wide open. It gave him the impression of being empty but he entered cautiously out of habit. The first floor had high ceilings, fancy furniture, and a stone fireplace. A winding staircase overlooked the first floor and led to three bedrooms, all furnished. The beds looked slept in, but no worse for wear. Beth would be over the moon to sleep on a mattress again.

Looking out through a great big bedroom window, Daryl was struck with an idea. Bulldozers had created a pretty large acreage of dirt that was half mud and would get much worse in the rainy season. He'd seen walkers stuck in the mud before and realized that the house, though not a fortress in its own right, was surrounded by a walker deathtrap. The previous tenants had most likely left for lack of food, he figured. The two of them had enough for a week if they were conservative, plus he could try to hunt in the surrounding woods. For now, it would be a very safe place for Beth to heal up- provided they didn't get company.

He checked the kitchen for food before leaving, not expecting much since there was no sign of an appliance on the granite countertops. The cabinets and drawers were empty except for one half empty bottle of Southern Comfort tucked away in a corner. He left it there, making a mental note to mention it to Beth later.

Daryl had been right about Beth's reaction to the news of a bed. She wanted to set out right away but heeded his advice to leave in the morning. The place was only a couple of miles away but they'd need to go slow and it was already late afternoon. She was antsy all evening long, humming and singing past dark on her bench. Daryl had learned to shut out background noise long ago and easily ignored her.

Heavy rain had started in the night, so the sun rose behind gray clouds above a very wet world. They'd never unpacked, which made leaving easy. Beth made trash bag ponchos but they didn't help much. Raindrops ran down to soak their collars and mud caked their boots. By the time they reached the house, everything was damp but Beth didn't care. Her body was telling her that she needed rest and this house would be infinitely better than the wooden benches in an ancient train station.

The model home was more beautiful than she'd imagined, with grey-brown river stones and white siding. Beth steadied herself on the garage door while Daryl made sure the house was still empty. He helped Beth in through the large front doorway and locked the door behind them.

She hobbled over quickly to an overstuffed sofa covered in the softest material she'd ever felt and fell into it.

"It might be a few days before I get up," she warned Daryl, resting her head on the sofa cushion behind her. He had discarded the plastic poncho and was crouching down to unlace his boots. It was an odd sight.

"What if we have to run?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "I ain't gonna let us get caught with our pants down again."

Beth lifted one foot weakly. "Help me with mine?"

Daryl obliged, pulling her boots off and and her socks as well. Her feet felt very strange without them. Beth had gotten used to sleeping in her boots, and in most of her clothes for that matter. Daryl sat on the floor in front of her and took a look at her injured ankle.  
"Let's hope we get a few days rest here. It's not lookin' too bad."

He picked up her other foot and gently massaged the arch with his thumbs. It felt like heaven. "That's almost as good as a bath," she sighed. "I hope you don't think I'm repayin' the favor." He just chuckled.

After a minute or so, she pulled her foot away. Her clothing was damp, the house was cold, and she was starting to shiver.  
"Those beds have blankets?" she asked.

Daryl stood. "Sit tight," he said, jogging up the stairs and returning with a big comforter.

She accepted it gladly and wrapped it around herself, snuggling down into the couch. Daryl disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of amber-colored liquid.

"Where did that come from?" Beth laughed.

He gestured with the bottle towards the kitchen. "Found it in a cabinet."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "Is it good?" she asked.

"Southern Comfort? S'ok." He twisted off the lid and offered it to her.

She took a swig and made a face, reading the label. Daryl took the bottle and sipped at it, sinking into an oversized armchair. He let out a long exhale and stretched his legs, trying to relax. A few minutes later, he was up and checking the view out each and every window but there was nothing to see.

Beth was reclining on the couch and sipping from the bottle when he returned to his chair. "I'm retelling myself 'Anne of Green Gables," she informed him. He had no idea what that was.

"Why don't you tell it to me," he suggested, taking the bottle as she passed it and drinking deep. No way was he gonna relax without some hootch.

They passed the day this way, getting toasted while Beth related her favorite childhood novel, the story of a red-haired orphan named Anne and her many adventures on Prince Edward Island. It wasn't the story Daryl would have chosen, but it was sweet and simple and Beth's pleasant voice put him at ease. Dusk had settled around them before he knew it.

"Gettin' dark," he commented after Beth had gotten too tipsy to recall the story very well. "I'm achin' to lay down in one o' 'em beds."

Beth's eyes were wide and child-like. "Help me up?" she requested cutely, stretching her arms out to him. He couldn't resist scooping her up and carrying her up the steps.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped. "Which way?" he asked her. She pointed at the master bedroom and its king-sized bed. Daryl laid her down gently and settled the comforter around her. She peeled her damp shirts off underneath the blanket and tossed them to the ground. When he turned to leave the room, she grabbed his arm.

"Stay with me."

He knew it was coming, but still hadn't figured what to say. "Beth…"

"I don't wan' ta sleep alone," she complained in a childish, pouty voice.

"I can't… I know wut you want from me." Daryl paused, trying to voice his mind without letting the anger through. "I can't do 'at to ya. What people do. They use each other and I ain't gonna do that."

He couldn't tell if she understood what he was trying to say, but the expression on Beth's sleepy, drunk face was soft and gentle. She sat up and led his hand to her breast, pressing his palm against the material of her bra.

"Does it make you feel good, when you touch me?" she asked him, her voice calm and kind. Daryl stared down at the pattern of the comforter in defiance, refusing to answer.

"It makes me feel good when you touch me," she added.

His eyes flickered thoughtfully from her face to his hand on her chest and back to the blanket. He might look stubborn, but Beth could tell he was making a decision and needed time. He reminded her of one of her favorite horses on the farm, Nervous Nellie. The mare had always needed a little extra time and patience to take a treat or let someone saddle her. She held Daryl's hand to her chest but didn't push him further. When his dark blue eyes met hers, no trace of defiance was left. He was looking at her like he had that night, like he could really see her.

"Just lay with me," she whispered, pulling him down by the hand. "But take off those wet clothes first."


	6. A Roll in the Hay

**Chapter Six: Pure Unbridled Smut**

_Caution: Memories of childhood abuse. I marked the paragraph with an * if you want to skip it._  
_Also, this is my first time writing real smut so be gentle. ;)_

Daryl woke up in the middle of the night with a mouthful of blonde hair. Beth's back was to him, her tangles splayed across his face and clinging to his beard. He pulled his face away and smoothed her hair down her back gently, feeling the discs of her spine under his fingers. Gotta find more food, he thought. There hadn't been much on the girl to begin with but she was starting to look downright unhealthy.

Beth stirred at his touch but didn't wake. Lost in his worries, Daryl rolled onto his back. The pull of the covers roused her enough to turn towards him, draping a leg over his in her sleep. They were both still in jeans, having passed out almost immediately after he'd lay down with her. Her leg was toasty over his, the heat radiating from her body warmed his bare skin. He wanted to get up and pace, hunt, beat something down. Being so close to Beth, knowing he could touch her, dealing with all the emotions that came with his arousal, had him agitated.

*Sex had always been intertwined with fear and anger for him. As a kid, he'd seen his dad drunkenly manhandle is poor ma countless times, grabbing and groping and eventually slammin' their bedroom door behind him. After Ma died, his dad could sometimes get so fucked up as to forget who Daryl was and try to manhandle him. He'd always fought back, but that just led to the worst beatings. Getting the shit kicked out of him was probably better than the alternative, though. He hated those memories, hated that he wore the secrets of his past for anyone to see.*

The need to get rid of these thoughts was overwhelming, but there was nothing left to drink, no one around to pick a good fight with, nothing but an open pack of cigarettes to console him. His brother Merle had turned to fuckin' as much as fightin' but that had always made Daryl feel worse. In the heat of the moment, he was suddenly his dad and the girl under him was his ma. He couldn't get away from the way things just kept circling 'round and 'round.

Straight out of nowhere, Beth's father Hershel popped into his mind. Hershel had been one of the best men Daryl had ever known. All of the folks at the prison had been good people. When he was with them, he felt… right… at peace. He felt like he was worth something; like he could be a good man, too. Beth still made him feel that way, when he really thought about it. For her, caring about a man meant she wanted to share herself with him. That was what people did when they were treating each other right.

Daryl thought maybe he could do that- take care of somebody, be somebody worth caring for. He rested his temple against Beth's forehead and listened to her breaths in his ear. They were soft and sweet. Weariness was creeping up on him and his thoughts were starting to swim around his head. He drifted off to sleep in a much better place than he'd woken up.

* * *

When she finally woke up the next morning, Beth's whole body felt as bad as her ankle. Her muscles ached, her head was pounding, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. The day was overcast, but enough sunlight shone into the bedroom that made her guess the morning was halfway gone.

Daryl was still asleep beside her, his face almost childlike. Beth couldn't look at him anymore without wanting to kiss his perfect little mouth, but she didn't want to wake him. Something told her that might be like poking a sleeping bear. She admired him for a moment longer before closing her eyes and pressing her thumbs to her temples, trying to massage away the headache.

"Mornin' sleepin' beauty," came his gruff voice.

Beth mock-groaned. "Ugh, I feel like crap."

"I'd offer some hair from the dog that bit ya, but it's gone."

"Maybe some Advil?" she suggested instead.

He retrieved their packs from downstairs and sat back down cross-legged on the bed, offering her the meds and holding a bottle of water. She sat herself up, pulling the blanket up to her chest. "You're a doll," she told him, as he handed her a granola bar once the pills had been washed down.

When he didn't choose something for himself, Beth paused in opening her food. "You need to eat, too," she said plainly.

"I'm good," Daryl answered easily. "Might hunt later."

Beth took a few bites and waved the rest at him. "Eat it," she insisted. Instead, he tossed it back into her pack. "You're impossible," she complained, sighing.

He ignored her complaint, gazing at her and biting at his thumb the way he did when something was on his mind. "What?" she asked playfully, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

What happened next thrilled her from head to toe. Daryl reached out, slipping one hand gently under the hair on the back of her neck, and he leaned in to give her a tentative kiss. The moment she responded, their kiss caught fire.

She put her hands on his face, felt his cheekbones and scratchy facial hair under her fingers. Her lips moved on his with the heat of her excitement. It felt so good to be close to someone again, to be focusing on something besides fear, pain, or hunger. Beth wrapped her arms around Daryl's shoulders and pulled him closer.

He responded by shifting to his knees and kissing her again, urging her with his body to lay down. He kneeled over her, trailing kisses down her neck while she ran her hands through his hair and savored the sensation. His mouth roamed over her collarbones and down to her chest. When his lips closed over her nipple through the thin material of her bra, Beth gasped. He did the same to the other side, making her moan with pleasure. She pushed at him and moved to straddle his hips, the pain in her ankle only a dull throb.

As she leaned over to rain kisses on his lips, his neck, his ears, Daryl's fingers found the hooks that held her bra together and fumbled at them. She nipped at his earlobe, delighting in the sound he made at the back of his throat when she did so, and then sat up.

Giving him a coy look, Beth reached back to unhook her bra and slowly slid the straps down her arms. He grabbed it and yanked it the rest of the way down, tossing it to the side without a thought. She watched his face as he took in her pale body, his hands running up and down the curves of her waist. Finally, he took her small breasts in his hands and ran his thumbs over her nipples, watching them harden with his touch. Beth arched her back and moaned again, quietly.

Suddenly, Daryl had sat up and was kissing her again- urgent, broken kisses that gave her chills. He laid her down on her back and unbuttoned her jeans, hooked his fingers into their waistband and slid them over her hips, jerked each leg over her feet impatiently. For a moment, she felt surprisingly uncomfortable being fully exposed until he leaned over and kissed the soft skin under her navel. She sighed with pleasure, so he explored the area with kisses. Soon Beth was gasping and moaning under his lips.

Daryl paused and looked up at her. His face was flushed, his expression somewhat sheepish. "I… I grabbed some "protection" from th' store… 'fore we left."

It took her a second to grasp his meaning. "Seriously?" she asked, giggling.

"We don't hafta," he added as an afterthought. "We can wait…"

"Hell no, we ain't waiting!" Beth laughed, pulling him up for a deep kiss. "Go get one."

The rest was a blur, as things tend to be in the heat of the moment. He was gone and then back, kissing her all over while she groped at the waist of his pants. Then he was as naked as she was and had her pulled up over his lap, strong arms holding her at her thighs. She took it slow, lowering herself down and pausing when it hurt. A few shallow thrusts, a few kisses along her neck, and she was wet and ready. Daryl guided her movements with his hands on her hips, sighing into her neck as the sensations overwhelmed him. He bent his head to kiss her nipple and gently rubbed at the other one with a thumb.

Daryl's heavy breaths, her own little gasps, the sound of rain pattering gently on the windows- it was all too much. Each time they moved together, Beth could feel a warmth growing in one fixed place that began to spread. When his tongue brushed across her nipple, that warmth exploded sending shudders of pleasure through her body that made her arch her back and cry out.

Daryl twined his hands in her hair and brought her face down to his. He kissed her lips frantically and rocked her hips over him faster and faster, until his breath caught and his body shuddered as well. He stifled a moan and pressed his face into her chest, holding her tight against him.

Then they were laying down again, wrapped in each other's arms under a blanket, rain still pattering on the windows, wondering what the hell to do next.


	7. Sex in the Apocalypse

**Chapter Seven: Sex in the Apocalypse**

"Don't look," Daryl told Beth in his raspy voice.

"What?" she mumbled.

"I need ta git up. Don't look," he repeated. They were still in bed, post-sex, but he needed to clean himself up.

The minute Beth had dismounted and snuggled into his arm, he'd felt a pressure building in his chest. Everything seemed wrong, somehow, like it wasn't supposed to happen. Not regret, exactly, because he knew he'd do it again if given a second chance. Hell, this was why he'd grabbed those condoms in the first place. It was more like the world had shifted and Daryl hadn't moved with it. He needed time to catch up, to get his head straight.

Beth was giggling at his back as he sat up. "Don't look at what?" she teased.

Daryl yanked at the sheet, threatening to take it with him and expose her. "Alright!" she yelped playfully, shutting her eyes tightly. As soon as he stood up, she opened them again. He yanked his jeans on quickly, glaring at her while she laughed at him under the safety of the comforter.

Once cleaned up, he lingered in the bathroom; thoughts and worries clouding his head. They were facing dehydration if they stayed too long and starvation if no more supplies could be located in the next week or so. Then there was Beth's inability to scout or hunt with her ankle all swollen the way it was. Even when she'd been uninjured, she was just learning basic survival skills. Daryl instinctively wanted to spend a few days hunting and scouting for more precious resources to bring back, but he was anxious to leave her alone.

His head quickly filled with her- the taste of her pale shoulder in his mouth, the sound of her gasps, her hips under his fingers, her sweet blue eyes. She was so feminine, so delicate. He'd worry himself to death while apart from her, but what else could he do? They couldn't live without food and water, but she was in no condition to move on yet.

"Daryl?" her high voice carried through the bedroom door. He opened it to find her standing there, still nude and unashamed. The sight of her stirred his arousal again. Porcelain skin, gentle curves, nipples as pink as her lips.

She looked concerned. "Everything ok?"

He nodded and smiled at her.

"Come back to bed, then," she purred, looping her fingers into his pants and pulling him towards her. He let it happen.

They fell back on the bed, Beth sucking his lower lip gently. Her fingers unbuttoned his jeans and pushed at them, sliding her fingers over muscles not often touched. He pushed them down the rest of the way and shook them off, then grabbed another condom from the bag on the floor.

She ran her hands over his hips and grabbed his ass as he pushed himself inside of her again. Her kisses were slow and sensuous, almost lazy, so he matched his strokes, pausing inside of her when their bodies met. Soon enough she was rocking her hips to meet his thrusts, exploring his lips with her tongue. Then their tongues intertwined- their kisses were passionate, their breath hot. Daryl stood and grabbed her legs, pulling him to her as she lay on the bed in front of him. He watched her breasts bounce gently as he moved in her, watched her lips part and moan, watched her eyes open and shut in pleasure.

Holding a slim leg in one hand, he pressed the thumb of his other hand on her most sensitive spot and continued to thrust, losing himself in the motions. Beth moaned loudly when he touched her, grabbing at him and grinding her hips. Before long, she cried out and shook underneath him. Daryl could feel her muscles clench and spasm, sending him over the edge. He shut his eyes and let the waves take him, then collapsed next to her once again.

They lay silently for some time. Daryl let himself enjoy the calm contentment that sets in after really good love-making, but his worries found their way into his head again before long. He decided to voice them.

"I need ta head out a few days," he began. "See what's around."

Beth was quiet. She knew he was right, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. The idea of being alone frightened her more than she wanted to admit, but they couldn't starve and she couldn't slow him down.

"Ok," she replied, feeling a lump in her throat as she said it.

Daryl had expected her to protest, maybe beg to come with him. She was being brave when it mattered and that made him proud of her. Maybe they really could make it; for a while, anyway.

"Ye'll be safe enough here. Place is like a swamp, with all this rain."

Beth nodded, shoving back tears stubbornly. She hadn't ever been left alone before but this house, with its fields of slick mud and remote location, was a much safer place than anything they'd had before. The woman in her, the part that had taken care of baby Judith and fired guns and desired Daryl, knew it was time to grow up.

"Ye'll be fine," Daryl whispered soothingly, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She steeled herself, biting back fear and sorrow. "I'll be fine," Beth repeated into his chest and meant it.


End file.
